


Bad Timing

by CuddlerOfDragons



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blood Loss, Killing, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 18:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlerOfDragons/pseuds/CuddlerOfDragons
Summary: Various readers have asked about the rough sex scene that was only hinted at in my other fic 'Sin Bin Revisited', there seems to be a feeling of disappointment at the lack of detail (go figure).  Anyway, I woke up this morning with THIS idea in mind and it's taken all day to write.  It's NOT the missing scene but it could be similar in many ways.  It's told through the eyes of two of the four people involved.Set soon after 'Til Death Do Us Part'.  Canon friendly.





	Bad Timing

Cain’s narrative

 

So, there I am, standing stark naked beside his bed, up to my balls in Lucifer-annoying-smirking-bastard-Morningstar and I’m pounding the ever-loving _Hell_ out of him.  _This_ will pay him back for the chainsaw incident, I’m thinking, as I dig my fingers into his hips and ride him harder - only it _won’t_ because, of course, he’s _loving_ it.

This is a first for me, fucking an immortal, usually I have to play nice; humans can be fragile and, overly large equipment _can_ do a lot of damage when stuffed roughly into places that weren’t designed for it - I mostly _don’t_ do men - heterosexuality is a tough habit to break but, when you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ve tried it all.

The former Lord of Hell, is, naturally, having the time of his life; pretending to struggle against the handcuffs, purring like a kitten and, I’m _sure_ \- though I can’t see it from here - _smirking_ in a very un-kitten-like way.

I yank on the belt that I’ve cinched around his neck, choking him through yet another of his ridiculously long orgasms.  The only way I could hate him more, would be if we’d been _truly_ married, instead of just undercover for a few ghastly days.

I’m close, myself, now and _he’s_ making sounds that are the very definition of sin and I’m giving it all I have and then…

Then it all goes to shit.

Without warning, he’s tensing inside and keening like a dying animal, writhing as though desperate to escape - _for real_.  I feel a terrible wet heat inside him, hotter than the ejaculate that I haven’t spent yet and, with a sickeningly final sounding gasp, he goes limp.

The elevator dings just as I’m easing myself out of him and watching, as bright scarlet fluid runs down the backs of his legs.

“Lucifer, you here?”

Of _course_ it’s Decker.  His very own kryptonite and the reason that he’s probably _dying_ now, instead of halfway through his tenth orgasm in an hour.

She walks slowly towards me and takes in the scene.  It doesn’t look good - imagining it from _her_ perspective - her partner splayed out across his bed, blood pouring from his ass, finger bruises on his hips and redness around his neck, visible now that I’ve relaxed the belt.

“It’s not…”  ..what it looks like, I start to say and then I see her face and realize that, obviously, it _is_ what it looks like; how could it be mistaken for anything _else_?  And I flinch at the look in her eyes - I’ve killed, _everyone_ knows _that_ but I know _I’ve_ never looked the way _she_ does, now, while I’ve been doing it - that look of pure, murderous, _righteous_ fury.  Inappropriately, I wonder what it would be like to fuck _her_ \- so much _fire_ \- and I make it easy for her, by picking up my gun from the bed where _he’d_ been teasing me with it earlier and pointing it in her general direction.

My head snaps back from the impact and is taking me with it to the floor, before I even hear her shoot…

***

Maze’s narrative

I’m in the elevator, on my way up to the penthouse, when I hear the shot and I’m through the sliding door - knives ready - before it’s finished opening and then taking in the scene, wondering who I get to kill.

The place reeks of sex and Lucifer’s fresh blood.  Not in a _good_ way.  Someone’s crying - Decker?  I look around but I can’t see her, she’s probably on the far side of Lucifer’s bed but it’s impossible to see because his wings are in the way.  Oops.  I go to the bar and pour her a drink.

I have to step over Cain - worthless trash - to reach Decker and I get a look at Lucifer’s wrecked ass, on the way.  _She’s_ sitting on the floor, mindlessly stroking his hair with one hand, her gun ready in the other.  If I killed her, right _now_ , Lucifer would probably heal instantly but then I’d have to listen to him whine about it for the rest of eternity - if he even let me live. 

“Drink this.”  I say, offering it to the hand _not_ holding the gun and guiding it to her lips.  She swallows it in one gulp.  Good; one less thing to worry about.

“Tell me.”  I demand.

“I walked in on them, Pierce threatened me with his gun, I shot him - in the head the _first_ time.”

“Nice shot.”  I say.  She’s as good a shot with a gun as I am with knives.

“I was going to call the medics, for _Lucifer_ but when I took the handcuffs off him… wings… just… I didn’t know _what_ to do, then.”

“And Ca.. _Pierce_?”  I ask, looking at the bullet holes in his chest.

“Kept.. gettinng… baack.. uuup…”

Good, she’s slurring her speech now, won’t last much longer.  Thankfully Lucifer still has a pulse and Decker will be gone, soon.  I sense Cain stirring behind me and Decker fires again, as she goes down and, incredibly, kills him again.  Good shot, Girl, I’m proud of you…

***

Cain’s narrative

 

I open my eyes with a gasp, fully expecting Decker to shoot me _again_ but, it seems there’s been a change of scene.  This time, I’m sitting - still naked - on a cold stone floor with my hands chained, painfully, above my head.

Cliché.

I look around the room, it’s dimly lit, is full of torture/sex toys and has a large bed.  I’m alone.  And, still bleeding…

***

Maze’s narrative

Lucifer’s up, by the time I get back.  He’s soaking in the hot tub and, if you didn’t see the blood on the floor and on the bed, you wouldn’t think that anything bad had happened.

“I can’t seem to get warm,“  He complains.  His blood is staining the water.  “What happened to Pierce?”  He asks, cracking his eyes open a slit.

“Thought you’d ask about Decker, first.”

“She was _here_?  That explains a lot.”  One of his more recently discovered emotions flashes across his face and I resist the urge to barf.  “How is she?”  He asks.

“Traumatized.  From seeing the _sex_ more than the _wings_ , I’d say.  I don’t think she knew that anal could involve so much blood.  She shot Cain a bunch of times.”  I laugh, remembering the look of dumb resignation on his face, that _last_ time.

“Where is she now?”

“I mixed her a ‘Brittany Special’ and took her home as soon as she passed out.  Trix is away tonight - no worries there - I fixed her gun so she won’t know she used it, put her to bed in her usual boring sleep stuff, so, if we’re _lucky,_ she’ll wake up with a hangover and think she dreamed it.  Specially if Cain’s back at work like nothing happened.”

“Where is _he_ , now?”

“Chained up in the playroom.  Want me to go get him?”

“Maybe later.  I’m tired, right now.”

And with that, the ungrateful bastard goes to sleep and leaves me to handle the rest of the clean up.  Serves him right if he drowns in there…

 


End file.
